I Scowled At The World. And The

The Misery Of Other People Is Only An Abstraction Something That Can Be Sympathized With Only By Drawing From One's Own Experiences. But As It Stands, True Empathy Remains Impossible. And So Long As It Is, People Will Continue To Suffer The Pressure Of Their Seemingly Singular Existence.

It's Strange What The Heart Can Do When The Mind Is Giving The Directions.

. . . She Gave Him One Of Those Broad Smiles She Reserved For Strangers, As If She Were Aware Of Being Able To Pass, In Their Eyes, For An Ordinary Woman.

What Interests Me In Writing A Novel Is Taking Really Remote Voices, Characters, And Stories And Beginning To Create Some Kind Of Web.

. . . I Would Have Let Him Go One Finger At A Time, Until, Without His Realizing, He'd Be Floating Without Me. And Then I Thought, Perhaps That Is What It Means To Be A [parent] - To Teach Your Child To Live Without You.